


Letters Home

by Miss_Prince



Category: Matilda - Dahl
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 21:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Prince/pseuds/Miss_Prince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matilda writes to Jenny about her university experiences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stealstheashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealstheashes/gifts).



October 25  
Dear Jenny,

I've just returned from that job in London I mentioned in the last letter -- the aerospace conference about the new era of shuttle design that's coming in the wake of new research. It was absolutely fascinating; the innovations are still years away from being applied in practice, but there has been such a terrific breakthrough of understanding in the last two years that we're advancing by leaps and bounds. Everyone there was practically giddy with excitement by the end!

I gave my presentation on the potential unification of particle physics and relativity; as I told you before, the subject has been baffling scientists for decades and been one of the most significant obstacles to our further understanding of the universe so far. Of course you know this; I must have written the same words to you a dozen times since last spring when I began my thesis in earnest. But it's so very thrilling! And it's so poetic in its own way, as well -- the machinations of tiny, tiny things, smaller than we can see, and then smaller still than that, and smaller still! And yet they are everywhere, everything, everyone, the same things in our bodies that make up the stars. Gravity, strange and unlike any other force, ever attractive, pulling us down to the earth, setting the earth spinning around the sun, drawing everything subtly toward everything else, is now on the verge of joining his brothers, the magnetic force and the strong and weak nuclear forces, and opening up a whole new horizon of universal understanding! The places we'll soon be able to explore...

Ah, my pen seems to have run off with me again, rebellious thing! But it truly was a wonderful conference, and I'm very glad to have gone. I'm also quite exhausted, and equally glad to be back in my own little flat. The university is no doubt glad to have me back, as well, but I don't intend to have anything to do with any of them until I've rested properly. As a matter of fact, I believe I'll leave off physics entirely for a while. I've buried myself in it so deeply, and I think I'd like to move on to other things.

I do hope you're well, Jenny. How are your students doing? I love to read your accounts of their mischief -- their triumphs as well, of course, but their mischief especially. And are you visiting with the other teachers and your friends in town? I should hate to think you lonely. It seems such a very long time since I last came home... I miss you. But I'll be home at Christmastime, and we'll be able to have nice, long chats by the fire like we used to. Please take care of yourself in the meantime, and give my regards to Mr. Trilby -- and Lavender, if she's still in town.

Love,  
Matilda

\---

November 10  
Dear Jenny,

The last two weeks have been absolutely wild. Professor Heckridge -- he's the head of the Physics department, if you don't remember -- refuses to leave me alone. I understand his excitement after such a marvelous conference, but I don't want to continue working in the field at this time, and I'm not going to budge no matter what he says. I've been doing all I can to tie up loose ends before extricating myself from the department, but he is making it far more difficult than necessary, and it is maddening. The professor has been kind to me over the past year, but he is very shortsighted when it comes to acknowledging the value of things beyond his own area of expertise.

Actually, despite all this, what I wrote earlier about leaving off physics _entirely_ isn't quite true. Writing down my reflections about the conference sparked an idea for a children's story -- a story about a young girl who sets off on a series of fantastic adventures among the stars. My own favorite stories as a child were grand adventures, the sort of stories that transported you to another place and time far away from your own. And I also want to see if I can work in some of the more exciting real physical concepts; children are perfectly capable of understanding a great deal more than people expect, I think, if you simply give them the chance. I'm scribbling down notes whenever I get a spare moment, although there haven't been many of those.

Hannah has brought up the subject of getting a flat together sometime in the spring; it's only an idea at the moment. She's changed her major again, by the way -- Music this time, and I actually think this one suits her; she's played piano since she was very small, and she's kept up her practice to the present -- long after her parents lost the power to force her to go -- so she must enjoy it. Her Business classes seemed to make her miserable, anyway, and I'm glad to see her smiling again. If I'm completely honest, the flat business makes me somewhat uneasy, but as she only brought it up two days ago, I haven't had time to give it much thought. We'll see.

Thomas sounds like quite a handful! But I must confess that I laughed at his stunt with the tacks; it reminded me very much of one of Hortensia Grundel's pranks against the Trunchbull, although of course Mr. Trilby is not nearly so deserving a target as she. And I'm very glad to hear that you do get out and visit neighbors from time to time, although I could tell by your hedging that it doesn't happen often enough. I don't like to think of you being alone.

The flu is making its rounds now, and I hope you stay healthy, difficult though that may be when you spend so much time around so many children. Stay safe, and write back soon if you can! Christmas feels much too far away.

Love,  
Matilda

\---

December 5  
Dear Jenny,

I'm so sorry; I haven't had a chance to write at all since my last letter. Professor Heckridge has been sulking ever since he asked me to join his new research team and I turned him down. It's so disappointing to see him, now; the man apparently never learned to move beyond dealing with his problems like a petulant child. He's made attempts to block my courses for next semester, although I can't see that working out too well, and he continues to insinuate that leaving the hard sciences is essentially throwing my life away, as though nothing else in this world had worth! He's severely misguided if he thinks such a horrible attitude will convince me to change my mind.

On the other hand, my friend Alfred (you've met Alfred, haven't you, the tall young man with the bright red hair?) is on the research team, and he's told me some of the other members aren't speaking very kindly of me. They say I'm running away because the field is too complex for me, because I can't handle the work anymore. They're the sort who feel intimidated by me, he says, the sort who feel threatened by an eighteen-year-old woman who understands their field as well as they do, and want to convince themselves they're better than her. I don't understand people like that, although perhaps I should, if I'm going to keep coming across them. Alfred says that people don't like to be made to feel stupid, especially in a subject they feel is their best. I don't want to make anyone feel stupid, though.

Overall, I'm just feeling incredibly frustrated. I haven't had a decent opportunity to hash out more of the story, and Hannah's brought up the flat again... I don't know what to do right now. I just don't know.

I'm sorry you got the flu, but I'm glad it was mild and went away quickly. I really can't wait for Christmas, so I can come back and see you again. What sort of gift would you like?

Love,  
Matilda

\---

December 12  
Dear Jenny,

I've had an awful week! Professor Heckridge succeeded in blocking my class registration, I've no idea how, and worst of all, he's managed to wrangle me into a project I don't think I can get out of without losing my grants -- a project that would make it impossible to come home for Christmas. It made me so angry! I was looking forward to seeing you so much.

When he told me the news... well, I feel silly saying this. But when he told me, for a moment, I thought I could feel my eyes getting hot, just like they did when I was a child -- when I moved things. It was so long ago, at times I've thought I might have dreamed the whole thing. The feeling passed and nothing happened; I don't think I'll ever be able to perform miracles like that again. But it made me feel powerful, for just a moment... I need to think for a while.

I can finally articulate what bothers me about the idea of getting a larger flat with Hannah. I've never really thought of this place as home, you see. Home has always been The Red House, and you. My flat here is a tiny thing -- comfortable enough, but just a temporary shelter, a place to stay when I'm out here. Moving in with Hannah is... it's permanent, in a way. Not actually permanent, not binding, but it feels different. It feels like really moving away. Should I? Am I a bird at the edge of my nest, afraid to spread my wings at last? Is this something I have to do to grow up? In books this is always the sort of thing that happens, a rite of passage into adulthood. But... I don't think it absolutely _has_ to happen that way. I think it's important to understand the things you love and want to keep by you always.

I bought your Christmas present today. Please stay safe and healthy.

Love,  
Matilda

\---

December 21  
Dear Jenny,

I've made my decision. I'll be home tomorrow. Professor Heckridge went wild when I told him, and I won't deny that it made me feel rather satisfied. What's more, I don't intend to return to the university until next autumn: I'm going to spend the spring and summer working on my book. With any luck, it will be ready to start sending to publishers by the time I have to go back. I told Hannah I didn't want to get a flat together, and I explained as best I could. She seemed to understand, and I'm very glad. She said she may come up for New Year's, if that's alright with you.

I've missed you so much, Jenny. I'll be so happy when I finally see you again. And I don't think it's wrong to know where home is and want to keep it, want to be there where you feel warm and safe and loved.

Happy Christmas, Jenny.

Love, Matilda


End file.
